Hey, I'm Bree

I've said it before, but I have come to a fuller understanding of myself. See. I spent my whole life hating on myself for being overweight. Fat. Obese. etc. Anyway, let me tell you something. I don't give a fuck. I don't give a fuck if nobody likes it. I seriously don't care what you have to say on the matter. I'm hot. Not "I THINK I'm hot." I just am. I may not be what everything thinks is "beautiful," but I ain't some gross fuck that people can just talk shit about. Now, let me be clear, I haven't had anyone say anything about my weight to me in a long time, but I heard it a ton when I was younger. I was bullied, called names, ignored even because of my size until about the time high school started, but it was enough to cause me to hate myself. So thanks to all y'all who played a part in that. I'm not bitter though, and I don't hate any of them. I mean, it caused a lot of hurt in me. I remember feeling suicidal in 7th grade. What's that-12 years old? A 12-year-old wanting to kill herself because of other kids. It's sick. Yet it happens all the time. It breaks my heart for them, especially the ones who didn't have the the support like my family gave me. I remember I started high school wanting to be invisible. I wore baggy, awful, boring clothing so I could hide. I was ashamed of who I was. Who could ever love me? I was very shy, and rarely spoke to people I didn't know. I just figured that they were judging me. I didn't want to go through the pain of anyone else telling me how awful I was. So I never let anyone get the chance. But it was in my head. Constantly. Everything I did wasn't good enough for me because I didn't deserve it to be. I was a bad person in my eyes because I was fat. As high school went along, I started to open up more. Getting involved with theatre really helped that. Being able to be someone else was freedom from myself. Yet, I was still never good enough. And it all revolved around my weight. Well, if I wasn't heavy, I could dance better. Well, if I wasn't heavy, I could sing better. But it wasn't that I wasn't good at these things, it was that I was afraid to do them. I was afraid of the judgement. So I tried to refrain from doing them because I couldn't face anyone else. Or when I did try, I'd psych myself out after the constant nagging saying I couldn't do it. So yeah, I couldn't do it. My voice and creativity was stifled inside of me. It was there, but scared. It wasn't until college when I started to feel free. Freshman year doesn't count. The summer of '09, I was in my first musical and during one performance, there was a number where I just opened up. I had all my sass and growl and fire within me come pouring out. But it wasn't all ponies and rainbows after that. I still struggled. I would be my worst enemy, but I was learning what it took to defeat me. I started being more outgoing, being more involved, etc. And it was great. The first year in New York was hard. I was in this massive, crazy-talented city surrounded completely by strangers. I didn't know how to put my voice out there.But I started to love who I was, nonetheless. See, I had learned to put a mean mug on. I tried to act like I was the bitch that doesn't take no shit. And, while I don't take shit from anyone, me being a bitch is kind of a joke. Now, don't get me wrong, I can be bitchy at times, but, by no means, am I inherently bitchy. Jamila told me countless times that year "Bree. You say you're a bitch, but you're one of the nicest people out there." Ok. Yeah. I'm nice. I would go above and beyond for any of my friends to ensure that they're happy. I realized I couldn't live my life being afraid of what people thought of me or afraid of myself. So I calmed the fuck down. I went searching for the peace in my life. And it wasn't easy. But I learned to love myself. My body wasn't the definition of Bree. And I mean, come on, I definitely know how to dress it to make it look good. But I don't use clothes to hide it anymore. I use clothes to...accessorize it. I don't mind showing it off...I mean...I'm not a stripper or anything, but I want people to see me. To look at me, and go "hey, that girl is cute." or "hey girl, you looking gorgeous." Because I am. Sorry. I'm not sorry that I'm not a size 6 or even a size 16. Whateva. I'm awesome no matter what size I am, what I have been or what I will be. I'm Bree and I'm crazy awesome. I mean, not just any body could have gone through all the shit I've been through. So I love it. For as poorly I've treated it by thinking it was the worst thing in the world, it really pulled through to keep me alive. I don't need to be thin to be beautiful. I just am. I like who I am, both physically and personality-wise. I've learned a lot the past few years, and, though I can always continue to improve myself, I have found a perfect balance. I'm nice, yet sassy, maybe a little bit bitchy, um...funny, definitely, really funny, smart-that's a good one. Calm...definitely much calmer than I used to be, which makes me less stressed out and less of a worrier. Ambitious...I've always been ambitious, but now I'm not afraid to go after what I want. And most importantly, I think I'm genuine. I'm not trying to be someone I'm not. Really, I've never tried being like anyone else, but I was ashamed of who I was. Now, I am who I am, and I love that. It's not being narcissistic or stuck up, it's just loving who I've become. I'm proud of who I've become. I've been through a lot of shit. A lot of stupid shit, but it made me so strong. Who wouldn't be proud of that? It's a really cool feeling, being proud of yourself. I don't think we let ourselves do that often enough. It's like it's taboo or something. But it shouldn't be. I'm awesome. I don't have to fake confidence anymore, I just am. And that's so fucking cool.

Life can suck, but it ain't that bad

Sometimes, when I think something sucks, I just think about how I'm supposed to be here. I could very well be dead and gone, but I'm not. Over 50% of people with severe cases of venous thrombosis don't survive. And my NYC docs said that they had never seen such a severe case. So why am I here? I'm not exactly sure what that answer is yet, but it's a good reason. A big reason. I remember I used to feel like my life was nothing, and I was a waste of space. I have gone through deep bouts of depression. Even as recently as this past summer...I was applying to every job under the sun (over 100 applications) and had three interviews. One got me the job at The Public, but I knew that wasn't going to pay rent, so I needed to find yet another. I hated life. I thought that I wasn't good enough for even an office job. I was feeling really low. I hated myself. I wasn't smart enough, talented enough, not good enough for anything I wanted to do. People kept telling me that I needed to try harder, and that wasn't helping me none. I'm sorry. Applying for over 100 jobs in under 3 months wasn't trying hard enough? Why? Because I wasn't applying to McDonald's? I'm sorry, but I possess a college degree. Even in high school, I didn't want to work in fast food. It may have gotten me a paycheck, but I, undoubtedly, would hate myself even more. Sorry. Not sorry. I hold myself to a high standard. I always have, in everything I do. School, work, theatre, everything. It's been both the greatest thing about me, and my biggest flaw. Now a days, I really only get frustrated with what I can't do. Like seeing was a huge thing for me. Now, I have most of my eyesight, and can function nearly normally, but it still gets me down when I think of what I used to be able to do and how now I have to be ultra careful. Do I think I can drive? Now, I feel confident I could but people don't trust my opinion even though I'M the one who can tell. Not them, me. I just feel stuck, and it's stupid as hell, but I just have to remind myself where I came from. Three months ago I was completely blind, but now I'm almost back to normal Bree. Lately it's been my hair. My Coumadin is making my hair fall out a lot, and it's really thin. Now, if you know me, you know how much I care about hair. It's one of the easiest ways to express myself. And I love the blonde, but bleaching it is making it worse. I teared up when I realized that I may have to dye it back to brown, so you see how much I care about it. This is probably the longest I've gone with one color-I'd even change the shade of brown I'd rock. But blonde suits me. Everyone doubted me when I wanted it, but now everyone agrees it's the bomb. It sucks, but I'll get through this. It's a small thing. Everything's a small thing now. And that's a huge thing for me. I'm the worrier, the planner...everything has to be perfect. But now, I'm just relaxed. I go with the flow, and try not to worry about everything. It's not worth it, and I realize that now. I mean, I feel bad that I gripe about hair loss and my eyes not healing fast enough, but fuck-what does everyone expect? My life has been turned upside down. But I keep myself in check, remind myself that I have a million and one things to be thankful for and being here is one of them. I believe I've been through the worst, and now I just have to work on finding what it is my life is meant for. I'm going to throw myself into the things that I love, including acting and music, rather than finding excuses not to. Because that's what I used to do, because I was scared. I was afraid that I wasn't good enough, now I'm just going to do what I love and not worry about anything else. Sharing my voice with people or auditioning or whatever whatever whatever isn't nearly as frightening as going blind, having surgery after surgery, after surgery, nearly dying, etc. It's such a small thing now. Everything is such a small thing. Except for my life. It's gonna be huge.

One Love

This world breaks my heart.
I don't hate homophobic people, as I refuse to be on their level, but they break my heart into a million tiny pieces. Why should you treat me any different than you do my friends just because I am attracted to the opposite sex? My friends are the same as me: human. Just like you. Why should you treat them as otherwise? People have the right to love and marry. Marry whomever they choose. I'm so sick of people acting so pretentious and thinking they have the right to say who should who. Who are you to judge? Do you think you're so high and mighty? Because last time I checked your name wasn't "God." and, yes. I do believe in God. And I believe he loves everyone that he has ever made equally no matter race, sex or sexual preference. This is why I left the Catholic church. I attended Catholic school for 9 years (10 if you count my short-lived stay at Carroll) and I was taught that God loved all his children-unless they were gay. To be fair, it wasn't the teachers who taught me that, it was others in the community such as the youth pastor, the priest and parents through their actions. I'm just lucky I had a mother who taught me to be open-minded and loving. I realize that if my father had actually been there when I was growing up, his influence mayhave changed the view I so strongly believe in, but he wasn't. And I believe that it happened that way for a reason.
I just wish people would realize that they don't have the right to judge. I know that it's only a matter of time before gay marriage is legal, and in thirty years they'll look back and think that it was really sick and ridiculous that it was ever an issue. I can't wait for that day.

Dreams

I've been really sentimental and such lately, but I thought now would be the perfect time to share the funny moments brought on by the best part of the hospital trip: the drugs. There's a few so I dunno if I'll share them all right now. We'll see.
The first one that I recall had me standing at South Street Seaport. I was looking over at Brooklyn, but it was all farmland. In the East River were two full-sized pigs that had been put out there with a banner to advertise something. One of the pigs had gotten stuck in the banner and was drowning. The other was trying to help it, but unsuccessfully. So I jumped in. (ew) I saw out to them as they were near the Brooklyn bank. I was working on freeing the stuck pig as the other one assisted me in staying afloat. (can pigs actually swim? Anyone know?) finally I got him free and he made his way up the bank and both pigs wandered off into the Farmland of Brooklyn.

Dream number was actually just creepy. Mom and I had reserved a room at some Coney Island bed and breakfast. However, they had rented the room to several people too. The other people were ok with sharing, but we said we'd go find somewhere else. They even were going to knock down a wall to create more room. It was all really creepy and 1950s Twilight Zonish. They told us they had made a tone of cake and cookies and they started singing really creepily. I started eating a milkshake shaped cookie huddled in a cornerbut I ate too much and felt sick. That's when I woke up and felt sick, yet so relieved for the dream to be over.

When they transferred me to Roosevelt, they placed these things on my legs that pumped in order to keep me from getting more blood clots. Well I fell asleep and dreamt that I was dressed in a crazy outfit which included fishnets for Cinco de Mayo. I was in a costume shop-I think for ATP- and these two Siamese cats wearing Sombreros came up to me and started pulling and climbing up my legs. I couldn't get them off because they were attached to the fishnets. At this point, I was awoken by a nurse and I asked her to get the cats off my legs. She informed me that there were no cats and that's when I was fully awake.

Sometimes I'd get an awful feeling of falling in my body and I'd wake up in the middle of a dream. One that I remember is Sara teaching us Fefu girls a very Fosse like dance routine in black leotards in a garage somewhere. Then some weren't funny and rather scary. I don't care to share those.

Next time I'll share the dreams and hallucinations caused by anesthesia. Those were whoa.

Positivity

While I laid in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think about everything, and amongst the wild dreams, I head some epiphanies. One of those was that I could no longer have negativity in my life. I mean, it was the power of positive thinking that got me through this.
I mean everyone is so negative all the time. Why? Why waste your time being angry or hating on the world when you could choose to be happy?
I mean, it's from everything serious to trivial. Religion, for example. Why do people feel the need to talk crap against others beliefs? It's what they choose to believe, and it's important to them just as yours are to you. I may not agree with certain beliefs, but that doesn't mean they're horrible people. And who am I to say their beliefs are stupid or crazy?
On the more trivial side, we can look at music. Maybe you hate Justin Beiber, but why do you hate him? Because you don't like his music? Then don't listen. You don't need to hate on this person you've never met. Good for him for being successful and doing what he loves. He's doing what makes him happy, so why don't you focus on finding what makes you happy?
I'm no longer going to let negative thoughts take up my energy. I'm spending these next few months searching for what makes me happy. I was miserable in the city this summer and I had forgotten what it was I truly wanted my life to be. So I'm glad I'm back in Montana because I need to refocus and go out and discover what it is my soul craves. I think I really wanna focus on music and not just theatrical music, but a good mixture of everything. Strangely enough, country music is really getting to me lately. Pop/rock is where I've always felt I belonged so I want to expand there too. I just feel like I've put all my focus on theatre, which I obviously love, but there's more to me that I've hidden away. I just wanna sing. Singing in the hospital got me through a lot of fear and pain and also boredom. When you can't see and you're used to your social media, you can go a bit stir crazy. But I appreciate the break too, because it really allowed me to think a reevaluate. I'm not the same Bree. Yes, personality-wise, but I'm calmer, more positive and happier. That may sound strange, but I've been asking for a change in my life and God knew it had to be a big friggin sign in order to get to me. I needed this. Now, I'm not sure if I'm no longer the worrier I've always been, but I think I've been letting a lot of things just go that I used to dwell on. I just accept the fact I can't change them or do anything about it, so I just shrug it off. It's nice and I think the people around me will find it to be a pleasant change.
I'm also find it important to surround myself with positive people. I just don't take others negativity well, and I'm afraid that it could force its way back into my life and I can't have that. Shane told me he and Sash were afraid they'd be pushed outta my life because they're negative, but my life wouldn't be complete without them. I just told them I'd just keep them in check. I've already said things to different people about different things they've said. If it's unnecessary, why waste your time. Jesu Christo, people, don't you prefer to be happy? I do. We only have so much time on this earth and I'm not going to waste my time hating it. You shouldn't either.
I don't mean to sound preachy but we really don't notice how much everyone does it until something crazy like this happens and you take a really hard look at your life. So just look at it like I'm saving you the blindness and three week hospital stay. It's alright. I'll take one for the team. You're welcome. :)

Love Thyself

One of the coolest/best things to come out of this whole ordeal is that I love myself. I used to be very self-conscious about everything. I wasn't talented enough, I wasn't smart enough, I wasn't pretty enough. I didn't believe in myself, though I was fairly good at faking confidence. More than once I sabotaged myself by telling myself I wasn't good enough to audition. I was afraid for people to hear me sing which made me nervous so it'd often come out as shaky. No matter how many people told me I was a good singer, all I could think about was how I wasn't good enough. Acting, I was a bit more secure in but I still constantly second guessed myself. But now I see. I see what I had been missing. I was so consumed with being perfect, I wasn't enjoying what I truly loved doing. That's why I loved doing Fefu so much. I became so comfortable with the girls that I didn't worry whether they were judging me or not. They heard me sing, they heard me rap (my Super Bass is pretty sick), they even saw me dance (a very rare occurrence)! I could be myself and they still loved me, something I had only attributed to my bestest friends before.
I don't know how but this thing made all that hate for myself fly away. I see how awesome I am. For example, last Friday I was sitting outside the hospital after getting my staples out and I was sitting in a wheel chair on the streets of NYC. I was bored so I started singing. Out loud. For everyone to hear. And I didn't care. I don't care who hears me sing now. I WANT everyone to hear, whereas before it took someone begging me to MAYBE get me to sing. But singing got me through a lot of rough moments in the hospital. One night, for example, I couldn't sleep (I actually didn't sleep for 3 nights) because my body felt like it was quaking so nothing was moving. It was a horrible, unsettling feeling so I sang Beatles songs because I knew my mom would like them. I didn't know all the words so half of it was hummed and when I didn't know the rest of the song, I'd just start singing another or return to Hey Jude-the only one I knew completely. I imagine if anyone was watching the moment, they'd probably be super creeped out.
Anyway. Singing kept my mind off of the awful feelings and still keeps me positive. My mom now can sing Call Me, Maybe thanks to it being my go- to song.
As for other things, like feeling smart, I just felt like I never had anything good to say so I kept my mouth shut a lot. Now I feel like I have an over abundance to say. Y'all will probably tell me to shut up. :) but that's why I have this blog.
As for loving the way I look, well. I don't want a boob job anymore. Ok. Maybe that's just because I want to avoid anesthesia at all costs. But the thing is I love myself no matter. What size I am. I had gotten to a point where I was comfortable with myself but I was always wishing for more. Now I get a little upset when other people are obsessed with the fact I lost 40lbs in the hospital. Cool I guess, but I love myself no matter my weight. I'm Bree no matter what. I dont want to weigh myself all the time. Thanks, but no thanks.
Plus on top of all that awesomeness that makes me, I'm pretty damn funny too. So there's that. Hahaha.
Usually people would look at a post like this where someone only talks about how much they love themselves and think that they're a giant d-bag but this is HUGE guys. Maybe I am a d-bag but I think I'm just a girl who finally discovered herself.
Oh God. That's cheesy.

What Happened?

It's been a crazy long time since I've blogged but it has been such a crazy month and I have a ton to say.
I'll try to explain what happened first and foremost. So I spent the summer living in Brooklyn with Evy and working at the school and the Public. I would get headaches but then they got worse and I thought I was having migraines. I also had awful neck pain which I attributed to sitting on the steps of the Delacorte and having to crane my neck up. However, no aspirin, ibuprofen or any other pain reliever helped. I went to urgent care and they prescribed migraine med and flexeral for my neck. That didn't help so the next day I went to the ER. Whatever they gave me made me feel great and while I waited for my prescription, I went shopping at Lush and Old Navy. The next morning I woke up feeling awful again but I just rested. The next day, Monday, I was a lot worse and my vision was getting wavy so I needed to go to the ER. I knew I wouldn't make it by myself so Jamila came to Bushwick (leaving work) to get me. We were gonna take the train but I could barely walk. I sat down on the platform because I didn't have the strength to stand. So Jamila called a car. The ER was full but they finally got me in when I laid on the floor bc I couldn't stand anymore. I spent 12 hours there that day with Jami, David, Jules and Evan taking shifts with me. I love them all so much. Then the hospital sent me home for the night so I could go to the Eye and Ear Infirmary the next morning. I really shouldn't have left. Tuesday I was worse. And Evan was wheeling me (literally at times with a wheel chair) around everywhere bc my insurance had ended on Sunday. Cherry on top, ya know? We waited forever for an MRI until they decided I needed to be back in the ER. The ER was full again and I laid on the floor for, I think, was a couple hours. I don't remember much except for David snapping at everyone who said I couldn't lay there. I remember finally being put on a bed in the hall in the ER, lots of drugs, Jamila feeding me mashed potatoes, maybe being fed orange jello, being upset there was no pudding and Jules reading me that really scary story (thanks Jules!). Finally it was time for the MRI and they took all my piercings out :( all I remember next is them telling me I had blood clots in my sinuses in my brain and I told them to call my mom. I had to wait forever for a room but I finally got in and then slept a lot while they switched between giving me dillauded(sp?) and morphine. I remember Sasha coming and spent the night, Jer visited, as did Caelina and finally Mama came. Everyone was really good about filling me in on everyone's love and support from Facebook and beyond. Trust me all of you were so helpful in getting me through all of it. It helped me stay positive. So back to the hospital. My vision was getting worse and they were doing test after test. I spent a week at Beth-Israel until they knew they couldn't help me with my vision so they transferred me to Roosevelt. There, they brought in experts who planned my operations. I can't/don't want to go into too much details on those, but for one they used some kind of scope put in through my pelvis to check the severity of the blood clots that had formed in my head and neck and shoulders. I heard it was pretty ugly. Then to reduce swelling in my optic nerves (what caused the blindness I guess) they had this world famous doctor make a little clip in the sheath of the optic in the right eye. Then once enough swelling had gone down and the blood clots had reduced a bit they were able to put the shunt in. Before they didn't have enough room. Even some pediatric neurosurgeon said she couldn't do it. Dudes. I know this shit be crazy. They thought stoop. They said they had never seen anything quite like it before. Similar but not quite like this. Needs to be on Grey's or something right? The shunt is in there forever so now I'm like some bad ass lil freak. That's cool I guess. You'll only know its there if you touch my head and feel it. My hair was somewhat shaved but the way it parts covers it up. I spent 3 weeks total in the hospital, getting out on mama's bday. I couldn't be there anymore. Emotionally, I couldn't handle it, and I wasn't sleeping, even with a concoction of dillauded, ambien and Xanax. Yeah. Crazy friggin sleep when I did get some. Physical therapy wanted to keep me for another week but I just couldn't. Hello. I'd just be out yesterday and that would have been 4 weeks in a hospital. A month. Yeah. I'm sure physically I'd be almost good as new but emotionally, not so much. I'm working on the physical part with my mom, but I'm still fairly weak. Getting better though. I took a short all by myself this morning and I wasn't completely exhausted afterwards! I walk down the block and work on stairs when I go up to bed. It's crazy how weak your body becomes laying in bed for 3 weeks. I feel so old. I have a lot of insight bc I had a lot of time to think and reflect, but I'll share those in another post sometime. I'll also share some great dreams I had and some hallucinations because they need to be shared. There's some crazy stories, man. But for now at least you get a fairly good story about what went down. At least, I think.